


Jake Peralta's Quest for True Love

by nymphadoracrashedthetardis



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Trying on Glasses AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 20:05:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9674072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nymphadoracrashedthetardis/pseuds/nymphadoracrashedthetardis
Summary: Fun game: in the story of Jake Peralta's life, how many rom-com tropes can you pick out?





	

**Author's Note:**

> I like to pretend that I'm above mushy rom-coms but really, I'm so far below them I'm in hell.
> 
> (Rom-com hell (n): where everything is cute and perfect and unattainable.)
> 
> Thank you for all of your lovely comments on my last fic! I wanted to respond to each of them individually, but I've had such a busy couple of weeks. So- here's my blanket response: you are all so great and this fandom is so supportive!

To make it clear: Jake Peralta does not and will never want to be shopping for glasses. He does not want glasses, he does not want the impression that comes with them, and he most certainly does not want to spend two hundred dollars on what is essentially nerdy glass. However-

 

(There is almost always a  _ however _ , a  _ but _ -)

 

However, lately his mother’s been getting to him.

 

“Squinting leads to wrinkles, hun,” she says nearly every time she sees him. 

 

And, sure, his mom is one of the coolest people he knows, and  _ she  _ wears glasses despite of it, so Jake knows, on some level, that they’re not all bad. Then there’s the case of the wrinkles- he’s 33, he’d like to avoid those for a while, thank you very much.

 

So Jake makes an appointment with the creepiest optometrist in the state (probably), gets his prescription, and finds the closest glasses shop to his work. It’s four blocks away from his job and has an obnoxiously large pair of fake turquoise glasses hanging above the door. Jake looks both ways down the street before entering (in case anyone he knew saw him, of course). And so, the worst search of Jake’s life begins with the gentle tinkling of the door’s bell. 

 

Contents of the glasses store, aka Jake’s personal hell, include:

 

  * One receptionist, bored.
  * One mother with small child, adorable.
  * One woman, in the _old man glasses_ section.
  * A trillion pairs of glasses, ugly.
  * Four walls of very bright and very reflective mirrors, overwhelming.



 

It’s quiet inside, and Jake pads very lightly across the floor. The receptionist at the front smiles and welcomes him in, and he averts his eyes after a quick  _ hello _ and recedes to the back. He puts on the first pair of frames he finds, and they’re too small. And bright green. Jake looks up from the display. He’s in the children’s section. The child and their mother is standing not far away, admiring a pair of frames with little stars etched along the sides.

 

Someone behind him speaks up.

 

“Do you think these are ugly?” It’s the woman with the apparent soul of the elderly. She is frowning at herself in the mirror, wearing a pair of giant light pink glasses. She also, Jake notes, has very shiny hair.

 

“Do you want the truth or the lie?”

 

She frowns at him now. “The truth.”

 

_ Duh, Jake _ . “Yes. Yes, they’re very ugly.”

 

The woman sighs, then puts on a second pair. In front of her are another four pairs of glasses. “How about these?”

 

“Hideous. And childish.”

 

She makes a face at him. “Well, that’s a lot coming from a man with paint on his hands.”

 

Jake looks down at his splattered hands and laughs. He had forgotten to wash them in the disorganized hub that is elementary school at the end of the day. “We had art class at school today.”

 

The woman perks up. “Oh, are you a teacher?”

 

“Yeah, second grade.”

 

She fiddles with the little decorative piece on a brown pair of glasses. “That’s a good year.”

 

Jake laughs under his breath. “I try to make it be.”

 

The woman nods with a slight smile and goes back to making faces at herself in the mirror.  Jake doesn’t stray far more than a table away from her. He picks up a pair, puts it on, puts it down again. He picks up another one. He glances at the woman in the mirror all the while.

 

“You know,” he says. “I can help you out, if you want.” His voice sounds loud in the tiny shop.

 

“Can you really?”

 

“Oh yeah, I’m full of opinions.”

 

“Thanks,” the woman says. She looks down at the six pairs of glasses in front of her. “I’ve done my research- on brands, and styles, and I’ve matched them to my face shape.” Jake thought absently that research was a good idea. “But-”

 

“But?”

 

“I don’t really like them.”

 

“Which ones do you like?”

 

She holds up the pink pair.

 

“Well, if you get those, you can be sure you’ll look good in them when you get old, so.”

 

The woman laughs again. Jake’s stomach flutters. “I’m Amy, by the way.”

 

“Jake.”

 

Amy tilts her chin up. “So, Jake,” she moves on. “Which frames will charm your second graders best?”

 

Jake’s mouth turns up slightly. “Oh, I don’t need any more charm to keep them in line.”

 

“So they’re good students, then?”

 

“The best. A little messy.” Jake looks down at his hands again.

 

“Do you work nearby?”

 

“Yeah, just a few blocks away.”

 

“The public school just down the street?” Jake nods. “Oh, I live near there.”

 

_ Coolcoolcoolcoolcool. NBD. _ “Neat,” Jake squeaks out.

 

“But regardless of your charm,” Amy continues. “You probably shouldn’t get  _ those _ frames.” Jake is still holding a random pair. “Too small for your face.”

 

“Ah. Right. You’re saving me from a lifetime of embarrassment, Amy.”

 

“Or just a few years.”

 

“Yeah, or just a few years.”

 

“Well, I hope you settle on a pair. I’ll probably be looking for another week.”

 

“I can help you now!”

 

Something flashes in Amy’s eyes. “That’s really nice, but I have an appointment I have to rush to. I came here with no hope of making a decision.”

 

“Maybe that’s what doomed you.”

 

Amy giggles. “Maybe.” She picks up her purse, then goes through it, pulling out her phone, her umbrella, her hat, slowly.

 

Jake takes the hint. “Can I call you sometime?”

 

Amy smiles without looking up, but Jake can see it in the mirrors. “I’d like that. Er-” She ignores her phone completely, and rummages through her purse for a receipt and a pen. Jake is, oddly, charmed. He is handed a slip for Thai takeout with a ten digit number written neatly on the back. Above the numbers, the  _ y _ in  _ Amy  _ is curled elegantly.  _ Adorable. _

 

“Thanks. So, I’ll, uh, call you later.”

 

Amy nods. “Bye, Jake.” She opens her umbrella and steps out into the street, turning left. 

 

As Jake browses the piles of eyeglasses, the receipt burns in his front pocket. Eight out of nearly thirty pairs he tries on make his face look odd. Without his phone charged to get second opinions, Jake admits defeat, puts the frames back where he thinks he got them, and heads out into the rainy street.

 

Jake runs for the bus and just barely makes it on dry, but his walk home from his stop hits him hard, and by the time he’s climbing the stairs up to his apartment and digging his keys out of his wet pocket, the receipt with Amy’s number is wet and illegible.

 

_ Damnit. _

 

* * *

 

It’s Saturday, errand day. A day once designated for lounging around in bed, now turned into a day for doing all of the adult things Jake neglects during the week. Not a complete waste of a free day- Jake has standing plans with Gina Linetti to do every boring Saturday chore together. It’s also the weekend after Jake meets Amy, gets Amy’s number, and subsequently loses it, making it the mopiest errand day Gina has ever endured.

 

At the halfway point back from the laundromat, as they were passing the bakery Gina’s been eyeing for two years but been resisting, Jake’s rehashing the Amy Incident for the second time that day. Gina, the second time around, does not care quite as much, and is more immersed in her phone than she is in Jake.

 

(The  _ second _ time around, it’s important to note. The first time, she was happy to offer her support, but- empathy does not oft come twice from Gina Linetti.)

 

“Tell me, Jake, why didn’t you just put her number onto your phone?”

 

“It was dead!”

 

Gina groans. “How many times do I have to tell you-”

 

“I know! I know. My battery just sucks.” Jake’s swinging his ageing laundry bag back and forth as he walks. Any harder, and they’d have to turn back and return to the laundromat. Gina eyes it warily.

 

“And why didn’t you give her  _ your  _ number?”

 

“I was too excited to even think of it.”

 

“Aw, kiddo. You’re living the classic tragic love story. You’ll never see your old lady lover again.” Gina says absently, scrolling through her twitter notifications with her free hand.

 

“She’s not old.”

 

“Why didn’t she just get your number and text you, like a normal person?”

 

Jake is quiet for a moment. “What if I see her near the school-”

 

Gina squints at him. “She has a kid?”

 

“Nah, she said she lives near the school.”

 

“You know where she lives? Jake, we can find her!”

 

“We can?”

 

“Let me be the fairy godmother you’ve been missing.” Gina takes him by the elbow and drags him down the street to drop their laundry bags off at Jake’s. Her phone is in her back pocket, and Jake assumes that Errand Day is over, and Quest Day has begun.

 

* * *

 

(So, Jake’s life was turning into something akin to a rom-com. And, like any good rom-com, Jake’s Search for Amy and Love -capitalized due to Immense Importance- requires a good montage. Cue Gina Linetti’s interrogation. 

 

First:

 

“ _ Full name?” _

 

“ _ Um, Amy- Something.” _

 

Then:

 

“ _ Horoscope?” _

 

_ “Can you normally just tell?” _

 

And then:

 

_ “Aura? How classy was she? What kind of shoes was she wearing?” _

 

All the while, Gina sips daintily on a coffee (latte, loaded with whipped cream), while Jake eats a slice of pizza from the place next door. The baristas glare and tut from their spots behind the counter, but the pair ignores them and focuses on the list they’re compiling on Gina’s phone. The montage ends with the appearance of one Captain Raymond Holt, in all of his unsmiling glory.)

 

And  _ maybe _ they shouldn’t have been discussing tracking down a near stranger in a public place-

 

But let’s backtrack a little: they  _ (Gina) _ manage to find out where Amy lives  _ (maybe),  _ based on classiness and hair shininess  _ (of course). _

 

“We can go door to door,” This is Gina’s suggestion- proactive, effective.

 

“No,” This is Jake, suddenly chickening out because, hello, this is stalking  _ (being a little bitch,  _ in Gina’s words).

 

“Then we can hang around the park and see if she shows up.”

 

“Better.” Jake’s now munching on the crust of his pizza and briefly dips it in Gina’s latte when she looks down at her phone.  _ Mmm, dessert pizza. _

 

“And we won’t leave until we find her and she agrees to go out with you!”

 

“Excuse me.”  _ This _ is not Jake. A man who was sitting alone a few tables down, nursing a coffee and a newspaper, had gotten up and walked over to the duo, and is now standing above them. Gina notices he is wearing nice shoes. Jake notices he looks very authoritative.

 

“Excuse me,” he repeats. “I didn’t mean to overhear, but I understand that you’re looking for someone?”

 

Jake’s mouth opens but no noise comes out. Gina speaks instead. “Yeah, but it’s fine, we got it, thanks.”

 

The man blinks. “What I mean to say is that what you’re doing sounds a lot like stalking.”

 

“What are you, a cop?” Gina retorts.

 

“Yes.”

 

Jake looks ready to die.

 

Gina still doesn’t care. “Cool. Well, we’re not stalking, we’re just trying to find Jake’s friend.”

 

“Can’t you call her?”

 

“He lost her number.”

 

“Social media?”

 

“He doesn’t know her last name.”

 

“Seems like he doesn’t know her well at all.”

 

Gina speaks for Jake again. “Nope.” She’s hardly looked up from her phone the last half of their conversation, and her thumb is scrolling wildly. 

 

The man, however, is still standing there. “This sounds an awful lot like stalking.”

 

“We won’t murder her or anything.”

 

The man blinks again.

 

“Do you want to come with us to make sure we’re not lying?”

 

“I do, yes.” 

 

Gina nods and picks up her purse. “Come on, we’re going a few blocks from here,” she says calmly.

 

Jake still looks like he’s ready to die.

 

* * *

 

Raymond Holt- the man’s name, they learn- says almost nothing as Gina drags them door to door, but stands behind them with the blankest expression Jake has ever seen. He’d have great fun with this, normally, if he wasn’t being humiliated by Gina. With every door that actually opened to them- not many, but enough for Jake to suffer- she’d recite a different variation of the same story.

 

“My friend Jake here, lord knows when was the last time he had sex. And he finally got a girl’s number! But he lost it and she’ll slip through his fingers unless we find her.” 

 

And people would  _ awww _ , and they’d shake their heads, and maybe scoff a little, and Jake’s cheeks would get hotter and hotter with each door. 

 

(He thanks every God and every heaven that there were two larger apartment complexes they couldn’t get into.)

 

“Jake, the way you’re acting, you’d think you were doing  _ me _ a favour.” They are in a bigger building that they snuck into  _ (thank you, careless guy in headphones getting in in front of them),  _ and Jake is glad if only because it was getting cold out, and Gina is reluctant to give him her scarf. 

 

“You can knock on doors and you can belittle me, but you can’t make me like it.” Behind them Raymond is rolling his eyes for the upteenth time.

 

“Chin up, pup. We now know where your girlfriend  _ doesn’t  _ live.” Gina knocks twice on the next door, and they wait a few moments before it opens. Inside, a towering man stands dressed in a light green shirt. Two little girls peek out from behind his legs.

 

“May I help you?”

 

Gina restarts her speech and Jake stares down at his shoes. The other man gives him a strained smile, pity, and says sorry before going to close the door. 

 

“Daddy, that’s Mr. Peralta.” The door opens again.

 

“Who’s Mr. Peralta?” The man looks to Raymond.

 

Jake raises a hand slightly. “I’m Mr. Peralta. Jake Peralta.” He gives him his hand.

 

Raymond raises his eyebrows and talks for the first time in over half an hour. “You’re a teacher?”

 

Jake nods. “Grade two.” He kneels down in front of the girls and smiles. “How about you girls? What grade are you in?”

 

“Kindergarten!” The one on the left says. Jake smiles. The man- Terry, he later introduces himself as- looks pleased and invites them all in. 

 

Terry is a cop, has three daughters, a lovely home, and a soft spot for romantic stories. Jake retells how he met Amy- in his own way this time, thank you very much- and Terry  _ aww _ ’ _ s  _ at all the right spots. Gina stays on her phone all the while.

 

“What are you doing on that thing all the time, anyways?” Terry asks. 

 

“Livetweeting the day. My followers are getting a kick out of this little adventure.”  _ Duh. _

 

“She’s been doing it this entire time,” Jake supplies.

 

“Alright. Well, I don’t know your Amy, but I still hope it works out for you.”

 

“Thank you, I really appreciate it.”

 

“Now, Jake, I have a question for you,” Terry leans in close. “Which first grade teacher do you think is best?”

 

* * *

 

No one they bother knows Amy, but Gina gets the number of a woman with dark curly hair and a really cool motorcycle, so she reasons the day wasn’t a total waste.

 

* * *

 

Eventually, Gina’s feet start to hurt, and Jake’s soul is crushed, and they move on to Plan B- the park. Raymond is a stoic as he’s been all afternoon, and Jake briefly entertains the notion that he may be an actual robot. He pushes it out of his mind when Gina finds a picnic table in a suitable patch of sunlight.

 

“She does realize that there are people sitting there, right?” Raymond and Jake stand at the edge of the park path, avoiding the cyclists and dog walkers, and watch as Gina slowly walks back and forth by the table. Jake shrugs.

 

“It’s fine, she does it all the time.”

 

It’s really not fine, and the group doesn’t leave, but they find another (empty) table, much closer to the running dogs and children, and Gina glares at them across the lawns. She takes out her phone to tweet about it while munching on a scone (cranberry and lemon, lightly glazed, bought by Jake).

 

A barking comes to Jake’s right, and he looks over to see two dark medium-sized dogs run up to their table, followed by a man and a boy waving wildly. Jake springs up and catches the collar of the dog closest to him, but the other jumps onto the table and takes the rest of Gina’s scone. Gina puts her phone down slowly.

 

“I am  _ so _ sorry about that.” The man and the boy finally reach them, huffing madly. 

 

“Apology not accepted.”

 

“Oh, man, did he eat your food? How many time do I have to tell you?” He wags his finger at them, then leashes both dogs and ties them to the picnic table. Gina glares at him harder. “Wait, did you get that from Le Petit Pain?”

 

Jake nods.

 

“Oh, I love that place! There’s a pecan pie there that’s amazing. Not  _ to die for _ , but still decent. You’ll know for next time.”

 

“Cool, cool,” Jake says. Gina is now ignoring all of them. “Hey maybe you can help us?” The man nods and takes a seat next to his son. “I’m looking for this girl, Amy, she lives around here? And she has, like, brown hair? Average height? And uh, I met her when I was looking for glasses, and  _ she _ was looking for glasses, and she gave me her number, but  _ then _ I got caught in the rain and it was destroyed, and-”

 

“Say no more. Let Charles Boyle be your fairy godmother.”

 

Gina starts typing harder on her phone. Jake gasps lightly.

 

“Wait, do you know her?”

 

“What? No, I don’t know an Amy.  _ But  _ this could be the start of a great love story and I cannot sit idly by and watch it slip away from you. I can help.”

 

Charles grasps his hands which is, okay, weird, but Jake doesn’t pull away. “Aw, thanks, but we already checked most of the neighborhood and no one knows her. We’re just about giving up here.”

 

“You’ll find her. One day, you’ll take your children to that very same store to buy their first pairs of glasses.”

 

Despite the sharp wind, Jake’s face gets hotter. Further down the table, Raymond is petting the dogs and speaking softly to the boy.

 

* * *

 

The one part of Errand Day that Jake refuses to skip is his hair appointment, scheduled for five, at the same place he’s been going for years, that always costs him 21.75. (Gina’s complaining about his lack of work ethic, but he’s a _rom-com_ protagonist now, _come on Gina_ , he needs the hair to go with it.) He gave Charles his number, in case he found Amy, before leaving him and Nikolaj in the park. Raymond doesn’t come, citing that they’re _probably_ good people, and could _probably_ be trusted, and that he has a dinner appointment to get to, anyways.

 

“Have your husband send me that recipe!” Gina made good friends with him, after all. Her mood improves when they enter the salon and the faint cloud of hair product.

 

“What if you got a faux-hawk?”

 

“Too much maintenance.”

 

“Gotta work for your look, bud.”

 

Jake gives his name, and they sit in the vinyl seats near the window. The last wisps of sunlight shine through the pane and warm up Jake’s back. 

 

“So what’s next with Amy?”

 

“No idea. I think we should just give up.”

 

“We just need a deeper social media search.” Gina pulls out her phone again and Jake sees her bring up the Facebook app.

 

“You’re gonna look up every Amy in Brooklyn on Facebook?”

 

“If that’s what it takes to get you to stop moping.”

 

_ Aww. _

 

Gina continues talking. “Do you think we could bribe Raymond into abusing police resources?”

 

“It would never work, Gina.”

 

“Hm. He’s a better man than either of us.” Jake hums.

 

When his name is called, he stands, and Gina follows him, plopping herself in the hairdresser’s chair beside him.

 

“If you’re here for a cut, hun, you’ll have to wait your turn.”

 

“I’m just here to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

 

“Okay,” The hairdresser pumped Jake’s chair down. “What are we doing today?”

 

“He’ll be dyeing it,” Gina says.

 

Jake whips his head around. He tries to point at her, but his arm is trapped under the plastic cloak. “ _ No. _ I will be getting a trim.  _ Only. _ ”

 

The hairdresser nods. “Mm. Same style?”

 

“Whatever would look best with a pair of glasses.”

 

“What style of glasses, then?”

 

“No idea.”

 

The hairdresser clicks her tongue. Jake tries again.

 

“Maybe- rounder frames? Nothing too big.”

 

“Don’t get small frames,” She shakes the scissors in his face. Jake recoils slightly.

 

“No, ma’am.” 

 

The hairdresser begins to mist Jake’s hair. Gina giggles from her chair. “So what are we doing next?”

 

“Gina. I lost Amy’s number, resorted to low-key stalking her,  _ failed  _ in stalking her, and had a cop trail my every move because he thought I was a murderer.  _ I  _ am the man every parent warns their daughters about.”

 

“Lighten up, Jake. You and I both know it wasn’t your idea.”

 

“Thanks Gina. I feel pretty skeevy right now.”

 

“You’re not skeevy. Pathetic and uninspired, yes. But not skeevy,” Gina’s face softens. So, we’re giving up?”

 

Jake sighs. “We’re giving up.”

 

“You are  _ definitely  _ giving up.” In the mirror, the hairdresser is glaring straight at Jake. His hair is still half-cut and half-styled, and mouth goes dry.

 

“I know I’m coming off as a horrible person right now, but please make me look good.”

 

* * *

 

 

Jake keeps an eye out for Amy on his way to work every day, and every day is disappointed. By Thursday, he’s entertaining the idea that she’ll be walking by the school just as he’s doing something heroic- tackling a pedophile, stopping a kidnapping, normal school dangers. None of that ever happens, thankfully. As protective as Jake is of his students, it’s been awhile since he’s seen the inside of a gym, and he doubts that he’d be a match for a kidnapper.

 

On Friday, after the final bell had rung, after his last detention was out, after it’s been ten days since he met Amy, Jake leaves the school, swings his bag over his shoulder, and walks the four blocks to pick up his new glasses.

 

Jake scuffs his shoe on the concrete step up to the store, and he swears lightly. The bell jingles above him. It’s bright inside and his eyes adjust as he walks over to the counter. A voice cuts through his thoughts.

 

“Jake?”

 

It’s Amy, because, thank you universe, of course it’s Amy. She is standing by the counter with her purse in front of her. The receptionist is cleaning the lenses of a large, pink pair of glasses. Jake smiles widely, then tries to force his face to  _ stop that immediately _ .

 

“Amy. Hi.”

 

“I didn’t expect to see you here.”

 

“I’m just as surprised.” Jake gives his name to the receptionist, who nods and goes into the back. Jake drums on the counter with his fingernails. Amy fiddles with the strap of her bag. 

 

Jake speaks first. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t call you. I got caught in the rain, and your number got destroyed-”

 

“It was my fault! I should’ve gotten your number too.”

 

Jake rocks back and forth on his feet. “Well, if you still want it-”

 

Amy whips out her phone.  _ Not so much of an old lady after all.  _ Jake unlocks his own and hands it to her. He adds three emojis next to his name in her phone.

 

The receptionist returns with a green glasses case. “Put them on and we’ll make sure everything’s in order.” She hands him the case, and it clicks lightly as he opens it. Jake holds the glasses up to the light.

 

“Hope I’m still as handsome with them on.” He jokes as he puts them on. Amy follows suit with her own pair and smiles.

 

“I can assure you you still are.”

 

Jake smiles and vows to call her that very evening.

**Author's Note:**

> I am very convinced that Gina would make an excellent private detective- smart, persistent, no boundaries. Poor Jake's trying to live a lawful life but she's just not letting him.
> 
> I now only have one more b99 story I'm planning to write after this, so if you want to send me a prompt that'd be so great! I'm in such a short story mood lately!!!


End file.
